


Drabble Me That

by PhryneFisherismyRoleModel (mewme)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Lust, M/M, Making Out, Multi, Oral Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Suggestive, implied threesome, sex in a chair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:30:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6934915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mewme/pseuds/PhryneFisherismyRoleModel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of drabbles and short fics of the MFMM world that are a bit more mature than those in Drabble Me This. Some may be suggestive. Some may be smutty. TBD.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of All The Words in the World

**Author's Note:**

> Based on @Izzieandlouie’s video of NP saying conduit (which I watched/listened to on repeat). Takes place somewhere in series 1. Phryne and Jack have been working together for a while and after a busy case, she discovers certain words have power.

Phryne had recently discovered something new during her investigations with Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. She had always been aware of the how powerful his voice was and enjoyed listening to him speak. He had a deep voice, one that could coax the truth out of a difficult witness or shoot terror into the eyes (and spine) of a constable when he barked their name. He had a manner of talking with his hands, fingers trailing through the air, or tapping by his mouth when he was listening intently to a story that caused delicious thoughts to flit through her mind. Simple fantasies, nothing more. The same _I wonder_ she would ponder after meeting any handsome man.

They had just finished a difficult case and the Inspector was battling a sore throat and as a result his voice had deepened into a gravely bass. Their late nights and extra whiskey didn’t help (on either of the throat or the voice) and Phryne had been too busy for her normal extracurricular activities to keep her womb from wandering as Mac might say. Frankly, she was distracted, tired, and needed the feel of a man’s body beneath hers. She had never really considered the Inspector as a viable option, with his marriage and his morals and steadfast adherence to his vows, even though it had been years since his wife and he had lived together. She was sure he needed a woman in his bed (or anywhere else he could manage) and eyed the sturdiness of his desk. She shook her head at this thought and idly flipped the page of the casefile she was reading as Jack spoke with the chief. She was not about to get lustfully compromised by the inspector, no matter how long those fingers were and how cold her (and his) bed was at the moment. She sighed and flung the file back on Jack’s desk as she propped her feet up on the corner. He lifted an eyebrow at her and continued his conversation. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, periodic _yes, sir_ and _the suspect_ filtered through her subconscious.

_Myers acted as a conduit for the Rockingham Gang, which resulted in…_ Phryne felt a sudden waive of lust shoot through her and opened her eyes to glance at the inspector. He was still speaking to the chief, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his desk. He looked at her again, quizzically this time, brows furrowed, as she stared back. What was it that he said that caused such a delicious reaction?

He glanced from her to the telephone as he finished his report with the chief. He sighed after hanging up the receiver, rubbing his face with his hands. _What large hands you have,_ Phryne thought as she watched him. She straightened in her chair.

“Miss Fisher. You have that look on your face.” He stated. She gave him an innocent look and hoped he had not seen the lust that had flitted across her face while he was speaking earlier.

“Something you said to the chief triggered something in my brain but I do not know what.” She wasn’t exactly lying. His words _had_ triggered. _Something_. He looked down at the paperwork spread out before him. She noticed how agile his fingers were as he shifted pages. _I wish I were spread out before him like the paperwork._ She shook her head again. This had got to stop.

“Are you alright?” He asked her as he picked up a sheet of paper. When she nodded her assurance, he began read aloud in half sentences, glancing up from the papers to gage her reaction. “Let’s see here. Myers worked for the Gunter, Sigmon, and Pierce Insurance agency.” He paused, shifting in his chair. “Passed along information on jewelry… advised on what to steal and how to get to it…when was the best time to go after the jewels…who to sell the loose stones to…” He stopped as she shook her slowly. None of his words did anything to her. Well, if she were honest, they did nothing but send low levels of lust coursing continuously through her bloodstream but nothing like what had just happened. She did not like what she was feeling. She looked up at the clock to assess the time. Too late to go dancing. Plus, she wasn’t dressed for it and one could not simply change a frock and be ready to go out. But not too late to give the delectable and dominate Dominic a call. Perfection.

“Miss Fisher. If you are not going to pay attention.” She waived her hand at his words.

“None of that,” she replied. “It was towards the end. You called Myers something.” Jack gave her a puzzled look.

“Myers worked for the Rockingham gang.”

“But what did you call him?” She prodded. She did not have time for this tonight. She stood to pace.

“A conduit?” There it was. Phryne was glad her back was turned as she pretended to inspect the trophies on the mantle. Cycling. _What strong thighs you have, inspector._ She was utterly unfocused tonight. She must leave and take care of personal business before she was tempted to test the strength of the station’s office furniture and the inspector’s ability to mount… She let that thought trail off as she schooled her face and turned. She had to make sure that was the word.

“A what?”

“Conduit.” She shivered.

“Conduit?” She echoed. She was going mad. Why on earth did this word of all words affect her so much?

“Yes, Miss Fisher. A conduit. Myers acted as a conduit for the gang. A facilitator. A channel for information to pass and goods disbursed.”

“I know what a conduit is, Inspector. I was merely making sure I heard correctly.” He shook his head at her. “Well, as exciting as this evening has been, I have…things to attend to.” She flashed him a grin. “And you have paperwork.” She opened his door and sailed through it. “Until next time, inspector,” she called behind her. “Constables.” She had to get out of the confines of the station house and into the cool night air. A fast drive would cool her blood. _Conduit_ indeed.

 

 


	2. To The Point of No Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: (Cec/Bert) Things you said while we were driving (for @omgimsarahtoo). Thank you to the Slack crew for helping.
> 
> Albert Johnson and Cecil Yates drive together in the rain and discuss what the marriage of Cec and Alice mean to their partnership. 
> 
> M/M

Albert Johnson sat at the wheel of the cab, deep in thought. A cigarette hung loosely at his bottom lip, threatening to fall.

“Oy!” Cecil Yates slapped him on the arm, jolting Bert back into reality. Cec gestured rudely and shook his head. “You’ve been like this for days, mate. If you can’t drive, I’ll do it.” Bert grumbled harshly under his breath and put the cab into gear.

“Bloody hell. I’m going, aren’t I?” He angrily flung the cigarette out the window as he continued to mutter under his breath. Things hadn’t been the same since Cec and Alice Hartley had gotten engaged. He remembered the days just after the pair announced their intentions and the anger that had filled him. _Farming my aunt Mary,_ he thought as he stole a look at his partner and friend. They had been friends for years. War, blood, and endless hours behind the wheel of a cab had cemented friendship but the first time, he felt the foundation of it tremble. They had cobbled things together after the _incident_ , and were just getting back under an even keel when it had hit him the wedding was days away and they lost all the progress that had been made.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this, mate?” He asked, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. Cec made no reply but his lips tightened into a line that Bert had not seen since the war. Inescapable duty and doubt were the only ones that caused the lips to tighten in that manner. Bert’s eyes lingered there, wondering what it would take to change the curve of those lips into a smile. Anything but the tightly controlled line that had rested there for the past couple weeks.

“I love Alice.” Cec replied, his head still turned. Bert saw Cec’s hand tighten into a fist beside him. He longed to reach out and lay his hand on that fist and on skin as rough as his. They drove in silence, aimlessly as the sky grew dark and thunder sounded.

“We better head back. Alice will be waiting.”

“She is at her Ma’s, working on wedding clothes or some such nonsense.” He reached a hand out and lightly touched Bert’s thigh. “I don’t want—“ Cec broke off as pulled his hand back and laid it beside him, tightened back into a fist. Bert nodded in response and continued driving, his heart thundering. He was thankful of the rain pounded loudly on the hood and the darkness that hid the redness of his cheeks.

“I think it will be best if we pull over for a bit.” Bert swallowed. “To wait out this rain. It should end soon.” He found a deserted street and a darkened corner to wait out the storm. He placed his left hand on the seat beside him, fingers sprayed on the rough fabric of the seat, his right rubbing the stubble of his chin. The rain was deafening in the cab, blocking out light and sound. It was if they were cocooned together. Alice. The wedding. Their continued partnership. Future children. _What if they have children? When they have children…_ he thought. He closed his eyes and sighed. Cec moved beside him as the scent of sweat, tobacco, and need filled the interior of the cab. The windows began to fog.

“Bert…Albert…” Cec began but stopped. Bert continued to stare out the window at the rain drenched street. He felt the rough warmth of Cec’s hand on his and his breath stopped. Cec traced the veins in Bert’s hand softly, as he would a baby chook. “Alice knows I…” he trailed off. Bert could feel Cec move closer in the darkness but still he did not turn. “She knows we…. She understands…”

“We what, mate?” Bert replied angrily, still not turning his head. Cec jerked his hand away. “She understands our _partnership_?” he spat, the words bitter. “Our _friendship_?” He finally turned to look at Cec beside him, his outline still. “You’re getting bloody married in three days.” He paused. “Three days until you have a bloody wife. I won’t come between that. I can’t.”

Suddenly, Cec’s mouth was on his, insistent in the darkness. His hands fisted in Bert’s vest and crushed him to his chest. His lips, usually soft and yielding, were now unrelenting in their need. His teeth bit into Bert’s lips, causing a moan to escape. Cec swallowed the sound as his hands found Bert’s cheeks. Cec pulled away violently.

“What if I didn’t get married, Bert?” He panted and looked into his partner’s eyes. “What if I didn’t get married?”


	3. Jack's New Favorite Color (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: It’s very purple (Phrack) for @bill0014. Thanks for the prompt request. It was fun! And thanks to @honorablemrsmccarthy and @omgimsarahtoo for your input. You two rock!
> 
> Phryne surprises Jack with a new outfit as she shuts them inside her parlour. Semi smutty. 
> 
> Part 1 of 2. Part 2 will be VERY smutty. If that is not your thing, skip chapter 4.

Detective Inspector Jack Robinson was rendered speechless at first. “It’s very…….purple.” He managed with a swallow. He was sitting on the edge of a chair in Miss Phryne Fisher’s parlour and she had just entered the room, shutting the doors behind her. They were rarely shut and he was suddenly afraid. He closed his eyes and swallowed again.

“I gave everyone the night off. We are very much alone.”

He opened his eyes at the sound of her voice and she was there, standing before him in a purple silk _creation_ he thought. He knew nothing of women’s fashion, especially Miss Fisher’s fashion. All he knew it—she—was stunning. It tied at the neck, purple satin dipping low on her small breasts. It left her back bare, skimming the top of her buttocks and reaching to the floor. A slit at each thigh reached almost to her hips. He caught glimpses of pale skin beneath the darkness of the fabric.

He was lost. Tongue-tied. Her perfume was making him dizzy with desire. And fear. But desire won out.

He reached his hands out to slide over her shoulders, palms grazing the sides of her breasts, midriff, hips, thighs. His hands found the slits, palms moving from silken fabric to silken skin. She was bare underneath. He rested his hands on her ass, thumbs needing the base of her spine as she brushed his hair off his face. Her eyes searched his as her hands moved down his cheeks, thumbs outlining his lips, his jaw, skimming his neck. Finding his tie she loosened it with agile fingers. She made no movement as he rested his head against her, breathing her in. Musk and French perfume and need. Her fingers massaged his scalp as his muscles grew lax and he began to harden. A slight moan escaped her lips as he drew his nails down her ass.  Phryne untied her dress and let it fall. He pulled away to allow the dress to pool on the floor at her feet. He looked up at her.  Leaning back in the chair he spoke hoarsely.

“I believe purple is my new favorite color.”


	4. Jack's New Favorite Color (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This continues on after the end of part one (chapter 3 of this collection). Pure smut, plain and simple. Enjoy.

“I believe purple is my new favorite color.” Jack Robinson’s voice was hoarse as he leaned back in the chair to get a better look at the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher. She stood bare before her, skin as pale as cream, breasts small, nipples a dusky rose and firm under his gaze. He patted his thighs. She straddled him, pressing against his growing erection. His breath came out as a hiss. She placed a finger against his lips to silence him and began to unbutton waistcoat and shirt. Pushing the offending material over his broad shoulders and off him, she bit his shoulder and pushed him back, grinning wickedly.  She pressed against him again. He moved his hands to her hips but she pushed them away, pressing them against the arms of the chair. He knew what she wanted and gripped the arms tight. He would touch her no more. Or so he would try. 

She scooted down his thighs to unbuckle the belt he wore. No bracers tonight. The leather hissed as she pulled it from its loops and threw it behind her. She rose from his lap, his erection straining against the wool of his trousers. She stood between his legs and placed her hands on his cheeks. She kissed him tenderly, hungrily, but his hands stayed firm on the arms of the chair. She traced his shoulders, fingertips light and searching. They circled down to his small, hard nipples. She pinched them and he gripped the chair tighter. Jack closed his eyes again as his breathing became shallow. He struggled to even it out. 

Phryne knelt between his legs. Leaning back she untied one shoe and then the other. Removing them, she placed each sock in the matching shoe and set them to the side. She sat up and placed her hands on his knees. Watching him, she pushed her hands up his thighs towards his hips to unbutton his trousers. He lifted his hips so she could draw his trousers and underwear off at once. His cock sprang out, long and firm and straight. She flicked the tip with her tongue before scraping her nails down his legs as she pulled his trousers off and away.  She knelt, watching him. His eyes remained closed, his arms rigid. She bit the knuckle of his hand. His eyes flew open and he looked down at her. She raised her eyebrows at him and pushed his knees further apart to give her room. 

She started with his knees. She traced the ridges lightly and leaned forward to nibble his thighs—hard and soft bites with quick flicks of her tongue. She alternated left and right as she worked her way up, his muscles tensing and releasing beneath her. She came to his apex and paused, breath warm against his balls and shaft. Her tongue circled in a figure eight as he exhaled a long breath. It seized as she took a ball into her mouth and then the other, her tongue hard against the base of his penis. Her hands massaged his thighs. She eased his balls out of her mouth, her tongue stroking the length of him, from shaft to tip. He entered her mouth with a groan as his hands involuntarily went to her head, tangling in her raven hair. His hips moved in time as her mouth moved up and down his shaft, tongue circling and pressing, lips tightening until she pulled away with a pop. The eyes that met hers were glazed.  

She rose to her feet, and he kissed her stomach. She pushed him back as she straddled him again before taking him inside her with a gasp of pleasure. They stayed frozen a moment before she sank down to take him fully inside. His hands cupped her breasts, palms rough against her skin, causing tingles of pleasure shoot through her as they moved together. He teeth soon replaced his hands as his arms circled her to press her hard against him. They moved faster now, breath coming quick as their mouths met—teeth and tongue—lips pressing and pulling. She gripped his back, nails digging in,  fingers frantically finding purchase as his back became slick with sweat. His arms were like bands of iron up her back, one encircling her waist, the other gripping her shoulder as he held her. She moaned in his ear. "Jack." She breathed in his ear. "Oh, Jack. Please." He pulled away far enough to kiss her forehead. 

"Look at me," he called. "Phryne, eyes front." Their eyes met and their breath came in short gasps. Sweat trickled down their backs. His hands moved to her hips as their movements became frantic and uneven. He pressed her hips into him as they reached climax together, her head flung back in pleasure as she screamed and he let out a long guttural groan, his face against the side of her neck. They were silent a moment before Jack pulled away slightly. He brushed Phryne's sweat soaked bangs of her forehead and kissed it again. "Eyes front." He said again, this time softer, more tender. He cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her cheek, forehead, eyelids, nose, "Eyes front." He repeated. She signed contentedly and looked into his eyes. She placed a hand over his on her cheek.  

"I love you, too, Jack. I love you, too."  


	5. An Unexpected Option

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The after effects of chapter two and Cec and Bert's realization. Alice takes a stand.

And then she slapped him. His soft brown eyes pleaded at  her to forgive him. “Please, Alice. Listen.” She shook her head and pointed at the door.   

“You bring him to me, Cecil Yates. You bring him right now. I want to speak to him.” Cec nodded and went out the back door where Albert Johnson paced just outside, a cigarette smoldering in his hand. He took one last drag as Cec approached.  

“She wants to speak to you mate” Bert nodded and followed Cec into the kitchen. He twisted the brim of his hat in his hands as he looked at her. He cleared his throat to speak.  

“What do you take me for?” She asked him, her voice cold and direct. Bert's mouth closed with a snap. “Do you think I'm stupid, that I don't know what you mean to each other?” The men glanced at one another. Bert took a step towards Alice but Cec laid a hand on his arm to stop him.  

“Don't blame Bert, Alice. Blame me. I love you. But I love him as well.” Alice turned away, tears glistening in her eyes as she leaned on the sink for support.   

“You don't think I don't know that?” She asked softly, her back still to them. Cec looked at Bert painfully as he stepped to her and laid a hand on her shoulder.  

“I can't in good consciousness marry you, Alice. I cannot bed you.” His voice broke.   

“Do you think that I am blind? That I can't see what is between you two, what has always been between you two?” She turned around to face the pair.  “Do you think I would  _ever_  come between you? That I would make you choose between us?” The men look bewildered. “I accepted your marriage proposal knowing it would never be just us. From the moment I woke up in hospital after Butcher George…” Her voice trailed off. “I knew it would be the three of us.”  

“What are you saying, Alice?” Cec begged.   

“I was always jealous of you.” She replied as she turned to face Bert, ignoring the question Cec put to her. “I even hated you when I saw the pain you caused Cec when you thought he wanted out of the business with you.” Bert looked dumbfounded and Cec merely stared.  

“I never intended,” Bert began.  “I simply wanted to give him a bloody way out.”   

“I wanted to slap you, to punch you, for hurting him like that. When we went to the pub that one night and you joined us in the ladies lounge, I thought maybe it could work.”   

“What could work?” Cec pleaded. Bert looked Alice in the eye. For a few moments they stared at each other. A grin broke out on Bert’s face. He slapped his friend on the shoulder.   

“You've got yourself a truly fine woman.” Bert looked at Alice approvingly. “A modern woman.” She grinned at him. They turned their eyes to Cec who looked at the couple incredulously.     

“He can be quite slow,” she mused. “It look him months to work up the nerves to ask me to dinner,” she commented to Bert, her eyes twinkling. “And months after that to kiss me.” Cec blushed.   

“I didn't want you to think—” She interrupted him.   

“You're nothing like Mr. Andrews.” She looked at Bert who nodded back.  

“The weddings back on.” Bert slapped his friend on the shoulder again. “Congratulations!” Alice laughed at Cec’s puzzled look. “You're beginning to remind me of a certain constable we know,” Bert teased. He hesitated as Alice stepped towards them and settled between them. ”What she's trying to say, mate, is this: She won't come between us, unless we want her to. Then she will be between us. Or beside us. Or watching us.” A look of realization dawned on him.   

“Really?” He asked, pulling her towards him. Bert moved closer to place his arms around her, resting his hands on Cec's waist. She nodded and kissed her fiancé. And then his best friend.   

“I'll never come between you two. Unless you ask.”


End file.
